Forgive the Survivor
by thescripturientbookworm
Summary: After the death of her parents, her faction, and her friend Tris, Susan Black is faced with a daunting task: forgiveness. Rated T for violence and emotionally dark themes, as well as possible mild language.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello friends! Please, if you read it, tell me what you think. Constructive criticism and suggestions are welcome, as long as they're kind. :)**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Divergent nor any of its locations or characters.**

My eyes snap open to swallow perfect darkness; I barely have time to register the dull thrum of marching feet. I don't have long before flashes of light erupt outside of my window, accompanied by the deafening thunder I would always remember as the sound of gunfire and death. I scramble to my feet, my eyes wide with fear, my bare feet slipping on the cold floor. I almost fall down the stairs, the shabby grey nightgown ripping on a loose nail in the wall. Before I know it I'm standing in the street, frozen.

Death's footprints are everywhere. I can see him still travelling, jumping back and forth like a bullet from a gun. Each step he takes leaves a new body behind. I see neighbors and schoolmates lying, motionless, in pools of something wet that shines in the flashes of gunfire. I blink into the floodlights shining on the street and my parents are kneeling in front of me, being held down by soldiers in black. Dauntless soldiers.

Faster than I can scream, one of them puts a gun to my father's head and pulls the trigger.

"Susan!" My mother screams, her usually calm and gentle demeanor twisted by desperation. I think she tells me to run, but I don't remember because I blink again and she's lying next to my father. Their hands almost touch over a pool of dark red. But I don't see it for long because someone in black grabs me roughly. I jump and struggle, shrieking through my tears, but a moment later I'm released because someone is causing a distraction. I see a flash of blonde hair and someone in black running away. Beatrice. She's trying to stop them. I sob and scramble into the shadows, watching her and another soldier being pursued. I want to help them but I can't move… I just can't. I'm paralyzed.

"Selfish."

I gasp and look up. My father is standing in front of me, looking calm and collected, which isn't right because when he tilts his head I can still see just where the bullet went in. Suddenly we're in the Amity compound hospital, and gunshots and explosions are firing all around me. I look down and see a gun in my hands.

"You are not a selfish person, Susan. You're just afraid, too afraid to be selfless. You should have helped them."

"How?" I gasped. "How I could I have saved them? How could I have saved you? I'm sorry! I'm… I'm so sorry…"

"Wake up," a voice says into my ear. It sounds like Beatrice but I know it can't be, because now she's dead too.

"I'm sorry!" I scream. "I'm sorry! I should have died with you, I'm sorry!"

Someone grabs my shoulders and I start away from them, so hard that I roll off the bed and onto the floor. I'm still tangled up in the blanket and the floor is hard and cold but I can't bring myself to move. I stay where I am, curl up so as to be as small as possible, so no one can find me.

I hear hesitant footsteps and feel a presence behind me, obviously uncertain of what should be done. I pray that they go away, but instead someone tentatively puts a hand on my shoulder, which is still shaking.

"I'm sorry, I had to wake you up… I heard you and…" the voice is Caleb's. I try to compose myself. Being so publicly emotional would have been unheard of until a few months ago. But I wasn't Abnegation anymore, so I wasn't sure that it mattered. I look up to see the few people left in the shelter looking at me uneasily. A hot, mortified flush creeps across my face; I'm drawing attention to myself. I brush Caleb aside and stand, straightening my old Abnegation nightgown. My fingers find the tear in it, which I had clumsily sewn over. The thread is rough.

"I'm sorry for causing a disturbance," I mumble. It would have been inaudible if the room were not so silent. I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand and turn to make my bed, taking comfort in a familiar task as the sounds of shelter life resumed quietly.

"Were you dreaming about the attack?" Caleb asks me. I try not to acknowledge him. It's been hard to talk to Caleb recently, since I learned about his betrayal. Abnegation no longer existed. I wasn't selfless. I wasn't sure I was anything. It was hard to get past the fact that he had willingly joined the side of the people who had slaughtered his faction. My parents. He had even turned on his own sister, my friend, who was now dead because she had still been selfless enough to forgive him. I try to avoid the truth; I couldn't forgive him because he was alive. Just as I was alive, when I shouldn't be. Almost everyone in my life was gone. I was haunted by my own survival.

I tried not to look, I really did, but my eyes flicked towards him as he walked towards the door. He is thinner than he used to be; and taller, but it was harder to tell because he walked with his head down most of the time. He looked empty, unkempt, defeated. Every aspect of his life had been met with cold refusal to forgive. Feeling incredibly selfish, I turned away- something I had been doing a lot of recently. Any feelings I had had for him seemed like an echo from the past.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello friends!**

 **As you can probably tell, this next installment is written from Caleb's perspective.**

 **Blue Alaskan Wolf: Thanks for your support! And yes, the story continues from here- I've got a storyline planned out, so there'll definitely be more chapters after this. :)**

I walked out of the shelter room, my head bowed, my spine curling under the weight of my guilt. I kept my eyes downwards to hide the redness in them, and the flush on my face. Of course. Why would she ever want comfort from me? I had allied himself with the people who killed her parents. Her faction. My own sister, for God's sake.

How could I expect forgiveness from her, when I had not yet learned to forgive myself? I could never deserve her friendship. I did not deserve Tris's sacrifice. I never could. She had been a hundred times better than I was, and I had been cowardly enough to let her throw that away to save my miserable, backstabbing hide.

I kept walking until I reached an empty hallway, then turned sharply and slammed my fists into the wall, relishing the minor stars of pain that shivered down my arms.

"Dammit," I whispered, leaning my head forward until it was resting on the patch of wall between my fists. A tear trickled out of the corner of my eye, cold and unbidden. I let it stay until I heard footsteps at the end of the hallway. Someone was heading my way. A very unwelcome someone.

I quickly pushed off the wall and started walking in the opposite direction. The moment Tris's old boyfriend caught sight of me, his entire body tensed, and his eyes sharpened, but he kept walking. I kept my eyes on the ground. Four leaned in as he passed, and our shoulders collided roughly. I started to speak but there was a coldness in Four's eyes that practically dared me to do so.

 _The only reason I haven't killed you yet is because she died for you._ The unspoken words stretched taught between us. I could practically feel the tension snap when he rounded the corner.

For a brief moment, I wondered why Four would be at the shelter- after all, he had his own home, and wan'st quite the volunteering type- but the thought faded. It wasn't as if I could just walk up and ask. So I waited until the only footsteps I could hear were my own, then stopped. I leaned against the wall and closed my eyes. It occurred to me that it might seem better if he just punched me in the nose and got it over with. It wouldn't be the first time.

There weren't very many options, so I made my way to the library; my one refuge. Most of the books had been damaged or even destroyed, but there were some left. A precious few had been collected, gathered here at the shelter. I was their de facto caretaker, since no one else seemed to care how much of the knowledge of the faction system, or the Bureau, was lost. Once in a while a box would show up in the doorway, filled with flash drives or papers or books, and I would sort through them anonymously, filing some away for proper use, discarding the rest. I was not the only one working on it of course, but most of the long hours I spent here were my secret.

This time, the shabby cardboard box held stacks of papers with some kind of chemical formulae scrawled all over them. Vaguely interested, I stacked those away to study later; they might be useful. In the very bottom of the box there was a small black box, about the size of my fist. I picked it up and examined it. There didn't appear to be any obvious way of opening it, but there was a fine line around its edge that told me there must be something inside. Intrigued, I slipped it into the pocket of my old Erudite coat.

The rest of the day proceeded as it normally did. Everywhere I went I received cold, unforgiving glances. People stopped talking when I walked by, and picked up again after I passed, muttering in hushed voices. I kept moving.

Today was my turn to help with food distribution. I stood behind the table and ladled soup into the bowls of the refugees, grateful that most of them didn't recognize me. Yet there were some who did. When Susan's turn came, a red flush crept up her face and she kept her eyes down as she held out her bowl. Desperate, I hesitated for a moment, searching her face for any sign of hope. If anyone left I had once cared about even a little had the ability to not despise me outright, it had to be her. Quiet Susan.

Noticing the pause, she glanced up at me, and my hope withered. Her eyes were unforgiving. Angry, even. Her hands fumbled. The bowl dropped and shattered on the floor, and silence fell. The sound of quiet conversation, the backdrop of forks against plates, halted, and every eye turned our way.

Susan's ears turned red and she dropped to her knees to pick up the pieces. I started to walk around the table to help, but she gathered the shards in her hands and tossed them away, then turned and walked out of the door without a backwards glance, her hands dangling limply at her sides.

I saw lines of blood on her fingers, where the fragments of the bowl had cut her. I turned back and noticed that everyone was still frozen. Eyes on me.

Flushing red myself, I walked back behind the table and started ladling soup.

The noise resumed.

That night I retreated, not to the publicity of the shelter, with its rows of beds, but to the little room that had become the library. Esconced among the books, my mind buzzing as usual, I sat cross-legged and pulled the little black box out of my pocket. The lights had gone out a good hour and a half ago, but I held a flashlight between my teeth as I turned it this way and that, my back against a wall of books.

Upon closer inspection, the box had little holes on different sides of it. I had a couple of paper clips in my other pocket, so I pulled them out and fiddled with them until they were straight enough to poke inside the barely visible indents. It took me a good twenty minutes, but at last I heard a click. With baited breath, I removed the top half of the box and set it beside me.

Sitting on a pad of what seemed like black velvet was a high-tech flash drive. It was like the kind Jeanine used to keep her private files on, but even more high tech. My curiosity was piqued. Picking it out of its place with my fingernails, I held it up close and turned it this way and that. It had no visible markings on it. No clue as to what it might contain.

Tucking the box in my coat, I kept the drive safely in my hand as I walked across the room to the desk with a public computer on it. Plugging in the flash drive, I let it load, the screen lighting up my face.

 _BUREAU OF GENETIC WARFARE/PLEASE ENTER PASSCODE:_

For a moment I gaped at the lettering glaring out at me from the screen. The flashlight, which I had not realized was still in between my teeth, skittered to the ground, its light flickering out.

Glancing behind me, my heart pounding, I quickly yanked out the flashdrive, stuck it back in its box and stuffed it into my pocket.


End file.
